Compared to the studied seduction of the novel, blogging is literary pole dancing. Anyone can stand naked in the window of the public’s eye, anyone can twitch and writhe and emote over the package that was not delivered, the dinner that burned, the friend who forgot your birthday. That is not fiction. That is life, and we all have one. Blogging condemns us to live everyone else’s tedious day as well as our own.

Would it be missing the point to write a deep analysis of this?

11 thoughts on “”

  1. We’ve always done the pole dance. We just did it in taverns or coffee-klatsches or cocktail parties or over cards, where the audience we could bore was more limited. I think the real point is, if the writer actually believes that last line, why does s/he read blogs. More to the point, why does s/he write one?

    Wise Woman

    1. …must…resist…temptation….

      I blog for the same reason that I write for the same reason that I talk; I like talking. If everyone goes glassy-eyed but stays to listen, I win!

      1. No, no, no, you nit. Not YOUR last line. The other blogger’s last line, about blogging condemning us to live other people’s tedious lives, yadayada

        *You* blog because it’s permanent, archived talking. Otherwise, you’d end up one of those guys on the street, muttering to yourself.

        NIt, of course, is meant in the most loving way — mother louse writer to baby louse writer.

        Wise Woman

        1. I reckon that it’s closer to ‘big sister louse writer’ to ‘little brother louse writer’, but your point is well taken, in any case.

          1. Okay, big sister louse writer.

            Anyhow, I figure the guy whose “winning” is the original blogger, who is now being talked about all over LiveJournal.

            Talk about glassy-eyed….

            Wise Woman
            now going off to write something hopefully not tedious

    1. All the best truths smart when you here ’em. This one left hand-prints on my ass (which, hey, kinda sexy…), but that won’t prevent me from publicly seeking my soul in tightening spirals of words.

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